She thrust the hot wire in Randall’s nose and he screamed horrifyingly, as smoke and blood poured out of his nostril. She watched him patiently as he kicked and frothed from his mouth. She twisted the wire from left to right, pushed it back in, then twisted it again.
When she felt that the wire was cooling down, she pulled it out, extracting flesh and hair from his nose. His groans and screams filled the pitch-black night, drilling fear into the hearts of every creature or beast nearby. She placed the wire back into the fire, now almost pure coal and ashes. The skies lit up as a falling star streaked across the southern horizon. For a moment the campers stared at the stars and the moon, forgetting Randall, his screams, and the reason why we were here. Did they make a wish? Maybe they did.
What would assassins and kidnappers wish for? Do they have the same desires as us? Do they wish for happy homes with families and children playing and screaming on the patio? Were there some parts of them that still desired peace and love? What did their minds feed on? Crime stories?
I am sure that I knew what Randall was wishing for. Freedom. Would he be able to walk freely tonight? What dark sin was he hiding anyway? Did he wish we never gave that beautiful, sexy neighbor a ride? Case was probably wishing that he had a knife in his boot. He usually carries one around. For some reason, tonight he did not pack it. Would he have cut himself loose and then fought his way free? Was he wishing to be home with his lifelong partner and wife? What was he wishing for now?
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